


Intertwined

by obikinn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Drinking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hair Braiding, Hair-pulling, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, M/M, Oral Sex, Padawan Braids (Star Wars), Pining, Praise Kink, Tea, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28511973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obikinn/pseuds/obikinn
Summary: Soon enough, Obi-Wan's hand migrated upwards to Anakin’s head, resting on top as a calming weight, but almost absent-mindedly beginning to pet Anakin’s hair. Anakin melted into the touch, barely noticing when the Nautolan scoffed and walked away, giving up on tearing Anakin away from Obi-Wan.“I had the situation under control, you know,” Anakin muttered while trying to savor and memorize the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hands in his hair. He breathed in Obi-Wan and tried to block the rest of the club out, shrinking the world down to only that divine physical contact and the shine of Obi-Wan’s eyes.Or, 5 times Obi-Wan played with Anakin's hair, and 1 time he realized just how much Anakin enjoyed it.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 315
Collections: Obikin Secret Santa 2020





	Intertwined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storiesofchaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesofchaos/gifts).



> This fic was written for the Obikin Secret Santa 2020. Happy holidays, Claire! Sorry it took so long, but regardless, I hope you enjoy <3

1.

As soon as Obi-Wan unlocked the door to their joint quarters, Anakin stumbled inside and collapsed on the couch. He had landed in a rather uncomfortable position, his limbs at awkward angles and his knee still twinging slightly in pain, but he was too exhausted to care. Obi-Wan was surely in a similar state to Anakin, but he was better at hiding it, for he was puttering around the kitchen, slowly searching for a snack.

Their latest mission had been… rough, to say the least. Even after the requisite days spent in the Halls of Healing, Anakin still ached all over, but he had insisted on being released anyway. He would prefer spending his days drained of energy and alone with his Master than spend another day cooped up in the Halls.

Anakin closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe in the comforting warmth of his home in the Force. The feeling wrapped around his body like a blanket, soothing his pain, smoothing away his weary irritation.

All of a sudden, he felt a gentle tug at his Padawan braid. Anakin fluttered his eyes open to find Obi-Wan standing in front of him, holding a tray with two steaming cups of tea. The herbal aroma only added to Anakin’s growing haze of solace, and he mumbled out a barely-coherent “Thanks, Master.”

“You know, you do have to sit up at least somewhat properly in order to drink tea,” Obi-Wan said without any real edge of reprimand. “Come on, scooch,” he said with another tug to Anakin’s braid, which he had still been holding loosely in his hand.

Anakin groaned and pulled his limbs into something that resembled an upright position, making room for Obi-Wan beside him. After Obi-Wan set down the tea tray, Anakin reached for his usual mug and dumped in an amount of sugar that always made Obi-Wan’s exasperated sigh a volume just loud enough to be heard on the opposite side of Coruscant. This time, however, no sigh came, so Anakin took a sip of his tea to avoid the pang of twisting emotions in his gut.

As much as they followed their same old rituals of comfort just the way they had for years, Anakin had to admit that his relationship with his Master had been rather strained, lately. Their training bond had withered slightly from how much Anakin kept his side of it clamped down. If Obi-Wan ever caught a true glimpse at Anakin’s core, he would just be more disappointed in his failure of a Padawan. At the same time, Anakin missed when their easy banter was intertwined with the warmth and reassurance of communication through the Force. Their mission had left them bruised and beaten and torn to pieces, and Anakin, in a moment of spectacular weakness, yearned for the depth of their old connection.

For the first time in far too long, Anakin inched open the gate to his side of their bond, letting golden sunlight stream inside of his soul. Anakin was lost, almost drowning in the frayed threads of the Force slowly knitting themselves back together, but he still heard a faint cough of surprise from Obi-Wan, who hopefully wasn’t choking too much on his tea.

When Anakin finally surfaced from the depths of the Force, his mug of tea was ice in his hands, and Obi-Wan was staring at him with a quizzical expression. With their bond flung wide open, Obi-Wan was no longer so totally unreadable, but emotional input was flooding into Anakin from every direction, so he couldn’t quite puzzle everything out in his fatigued state. He felt the weight of Obi-Wan’s gaze on him as he took a sip of his cold tea, rolling the odd, crisp taste around his mouth before swallowing. Master and Padawan stayed still and silent as the tea carved its path down Anakin’s throat.

“Your Padawan braid is undone,” Obi-Wan said out of nowhere, and Anakin jumped in surprise, nearly spilling the dregs of his tea. He unclenched his hand and set the mug down to grasp his braid, finding it loosened with strands poking out everywhere.

Anakin winced. “Sorry, Master,” he whispered back. A Padawan braid was the ultimate symbol of the relationship between teacher and apprentice, and by letting his become so messy meant that he had disrespected Obi-Wan and himself. Of course, braids weren’t required to be perfectly pristine and neat all the time, but a falling-apart braid was a sign of neglect, when every relationship should be nurtured and rebraided together often to become stronger.

“It’s alright, dear one, just come here,” Obi-Wan said with a small, warm smile, motioning for Anakin to come closer. Anakin obliged and moved himself closer to Obi-Wan until they were within a hair’s breadth of each other. He could scarcely breathe as Obi-Wan’s hands started to untangle the braid and pull it apart. A small part inside of Anakin hungered for Obi-Wan to use such a healing touch for the rest of his hair.

After a few minutes, Anakin’s braid was nothing more than just a wavy length of hair hanging awkwardly from the right side of his head. Anakin felt just as undone and vulnerable himself, sitting there so raw and having to trust that Obi-Wan would help put him back together.

The tension of the moment hung between them, and Anakin forced himself to face Obi-Wan’s eyes. He found nothing but love and hope and trust, like a field of sunflowers blooming in the Force.

Finally, Anakin let out his breath, and Obi-Wan began to rebraid.

...

2.

The music of the Outlander Club pounded obnoxiously in Anakin’s head, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he sipped at his sugary meiloorun cocktail. He could hear Obi-Wan’s voice echoing in his mind that he should be more careful, as he was quite the lightweight anyway. Soon enough, the imaginary lecture faded away and Anakin smiled dreamily as he focused on the smooth tone of Obi-Wan’s words.

At the very least, Anakin didn’t have to care tonight, for Obi-Wan had taken him out to commemorate his Knighting Ceremony earlier that day. He was finally free from apprenticeship, but the snipping of his Padawan braid hadn’t felt as glorious as he had once imagined. Luckily, Obi-Wan hadn’t cut their training bond yet, but Anakin knew it was only a matter of time before he lost their connection forever. He winced as his thoughts turned glum, and took another swig of his drink to try and focus on something else. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of all Anakin had achieved, with Obi-Wan as his Master.

In no time at all, Anakin found something else to focus on as his thoughts turned back, as they often did, to the majestic being that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He skimmed the club, searching for his now-former Master, and he nearly swooned when he caught sight of Obi-Wan leaning against the bar, his face illuminated by the eccentric lighting of the club. His lips quirked as he listened to another patron chat. His eyes were gazing off somewhere else in the room, but when Anakin reached out idly in the Force, he was overcome by the feeling of Obi-Wan’s attention entirely zeroed in on Anakin.

Anakin blushed and looked away, feeling overheated. Obi-Wan sent him a spark of confusion through their bond, but Anakin just brushed it away and focused on fuzzing his mind with more alcohol.

The depressing part of Knighting was that Anakin would be separated from Obi-Wan for longer than he ever had been before. However, it also came with a potential that Anakin had always dreamt of, a possibility that he was only considering in reality as he got drunker and drunker. Now that Anakin was a Knight, perhaps Obi-Wan would finally crash his lips against Anakin’s, tug his grown-out hair as they kissed, praise him, take him to bed, take him apart—

No, no, he couldn’t get his hopes up too much. There was no way Obi-Wan liked him back in the same way, he would never think so improperly about his Padawan.

Anakin groaned. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t he just focus on the euphoria of being Knighted and drunk and free? He had been out drinking before, of course, but never with Obi-Wan, who would never deign to lose his composure so totally. He went back to thinking about Obi-Wan’s beauty, which was a lot less complicated than his every other dilemma related to the man.

Lost in his reverie, Anakin felt a foreign hand on his head, running fingers through his hair. He leaned into it for a second before he realized that it wasn’t the hand he craved and flinched away. The hand retreated quickly, and Anakin whipped around to find its owner was a disgruntled-looking Nautolan.

“Don’t pout at me like that, you pretty thing,” the stranger drawled out with a voice trying too hard to sound sultry.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “You can’t tell me what to do,” he said, his words slurred as the world teetered slightly off-balance. Perhaps he was a bit more drunk than he had previously thought. Regardless, he took another sip of his drink and raised an eyebrow at the Nautolan.

“Come _on_ , loosen up, how about you dance with me—”

“He most certainly will not,” said a familiar voice with a crisp Coruscanti accent. Instantly, Anakin forgot all about his previous irritation.

“Obi-Wan!” he shouted with a grin, turning around so he could stare properly at Obi-Wan standing right next to him, wobbling slightly and glaring at the Nautolan. Obi-Wan’s hand brushed over the clump of newly-shorn hair where Anakin’s braid used to be, sending light shivers down Anakin’s spine.

Soon enough, his hand migrated upwards to Anakin’s head, resting on top as a calming weight, but almost absent-mindedly beginning to pet Anakin’s hair. Anakin melted into the touch that he actually wanted, barely noticing when the Nautolan scoffed and walked away, giving up on tearing Anakin away from Obi-Wan.

“I had the situation under control, you know,” Anakin muttered while trying to savor and memorize the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hands in his hair. He breathed in Obi-Wan and tried to block the rest of the club out, shrinking the world down to only that divine physical contact and the shine of Obi-Wan’s eyes.

Obi-Wan smiled sheepishly. “I know, dear one, I just…” He trailed off, and instead of finishing his thought, scratched at just the right spot on Anakin’s scalp. If Obi-Wan wouldn’t give a proper explanation, Anakin was content in indulging his fantasies of Obi-Wan’s jealousy over anybody else getting to have Anakin.

“Thanks anyway, Master,” Anakin said on instinct, and Obi-Wan froze.

“You know, you don’t have to call me Master anymore if you don’t want to, I completely understand if you don’t, it’s all fine,” Obi-Wan started to ramble, clearly drunker than Anakin had thought, as well.

Anakin grabbed onto Obi-Wan’s other hand to shut him up. “But I want to,” he murmured, his heart beating fast as he stared at Obi-Wan through heavy-lidded eyes, their inhibitions all shot to pieces. Obi-Wan said nothing as he held his hand not moving on Anakin’s head, not yet pulling away, his other hand sweaty in Anakin’s own.

“Very well then,” he said, and Anakin grinned as Obi-Wan returned to carding his fingers through Anakin’s hair. This was all he needed.

...

3.

“You just don’t understand what it’s like, all this pressure on me to train Ahsoka well, how did Yoda possibly think I was ready for a Padawan? I’m just going to fail her,” Anakin said, pacing back and forth. He had been rambling for about the last five minutes, ever since he had landed back in Coruscant and burst into Obi-Wan’s apartment.

Obi-Wan hadn’t said much in reply, just hummed and nodded in support as he sat on his own couch, sipping tea and tapping at a datapad occasionally. But after Anakin’s last comment, he paused and locked his eyes on Anakin’s.

“What do you mean, I just don’t understand what it’s like? Who do you think had to raise _you_ at nine years old? Do think I wasn’t stressed out of my mind, just like you are now?”

Obi-Wan didn’t raise his voice or let any hint of anger slip in, but Anakin still felt mildly chastised, and he ducked his head. “Sorry, of course, you know I didn’t mean to insult you or minimize your experiences, or—”

“Calm down, Anakin, I’m not trying to admonish you. All I mean is that I’ve been through the same situation, and you shouldn’t feel like you’re doing this all on your own. I’m here to support you,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin nearly cried from the weight of adoration that overwhelmed his heart.

He took a deep breath, and released it. “I… Thank you, Master,” he said. His stomach was still churning with stress and his worries were still zooming all around inside of his head, bouncing off of each other endlessly, but his thoughts felt at least a little bit quieter.

“When was the last time you slept?”

Anakin winced as he thought back. “Yeah, uh, about that…” he said, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly, but Obi-Wan just chuckled.

“Come on, lie down, close your eyes,” he said, patting the space on the couch next to him. Anakin made his way over but hesitated before climbing onto the couch and sprawling out. He tilted his head at Obi-Wan, who just raised his eyebrows and nodded in response. Anakin carefully lay down, starting with getting his long legs stretched out before leaning back and slowly settling his head in Obi-Wan’s lap.

His heart raced at the danger and intimacy of the position, and he couldn’t properly relax, so rigid until Obi-Wan first placed his hand in Anakin’s curls. Slowly but surely, the tension drained out of Anakin’s body as Obi-Wan combed through his hair with his fingers, a few times snagging on some knots but taking his time in gently untangling them.

Obi-Wan’s strokes quickly became a soothing rhythm as he read a datapad at the same time, letting Anakin just rest. Occasionally, he murmured some basically unintelligible comments about the paperwork, but they just became white noise as the anxious thoughts bled out of Anakin’s mind. Once or twice, Obi-Wan wrapped a curl around a finger and tugged lightly, leading to Anakin nearly ascending into the Force from bliss.

For a minute, he suspected Obi-Wan had to be lacing some sort of Force suggestion in along with his fingers. However, Anakin couldn’t find any sort of trickery when he reached out mentally, only soft and pure love. Perhaps it wasn’t the same sort of love Anakin felt for Obi-Wan deep within his heart, but Anakin would take what he could get.

For a second, Obi-Wan’s hand stilled in Anakin’s hair, and Anakin fluttered his eyes open right away. He stared up at Obi-Wan’s puzzled expression, breath catching in his throat from how close their faces were.

“Is everything alright, dear one?” Obi-Wan asked, and even though he should be used to it by now, Anakin’s tired heart melted yet again at the endearment. Things were certainly more than alright.

“Yeah, ‘m perfect, now go back to playing with my hair,” Anakin mumbled, before closing his eyes as Obi-Wan caressed a hand over his face. The last thing Anakin heard before completely drifting away to sleep was the warmth of Obi-Wan’s laughter.

...

4.

Anakin nearly yelped as Obi-Wan grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out of the ballroom without warning. He kept his mouth clamped shut, though, just furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as Obi-Wan dragged him down the hallway and into an empty sideroom with a pretty garden.

His heart hammered in his chest. Had something gone horribly wrong with the mission? Had they been discovered and sabotaged? Was Obi-Wan hurt? A million questions raced through Anakin’s head as Obi-Wan stared straight at him, a vaguely wild look in his eyes. The only sounds in the room were the soft rushing water of the fountain and Obi-Wan’s heavy breathing.

“Obi-Wan, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Anakin hissed in Obi-Wan’s ear, growing more and more concerned by the second. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. “Come on, spit it out, I need to know if the mission was compromised.”

“It’s likely an overreaction, my apologies, but when I noticed, I knew I had to do something about this,” Obi-Wan said, still dancing around whatever the crisis was before biting his lip. Anakin knew he should be worried about whatever Obi-Wan had noticed, but now his mind had wandered to the lines of Obi-Wan’s body underneath his fancy suit, the shimmer of glitter on his eyelids. Their faces were so close, they were all alone, it would be so easy to just lean forward and…

Anakin coughed awkwardly to shake himself out of his fantasies. “Please, just tell me, I trust you,” he said.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Very well, then... your hairdo came undone.”

Anakin blinked. He could have laughed at the triviality of Obi-Wan’s observation, but he was too busy blushing at the thought of Obi-Wan staring at him across the ballroom long enough to notice. He reached behind his head to double-check, and sure enough, his braided style had fallen apart into merely strands.

“Oh, guess I didn’t pin it up well enough. Will you fix it for me, then?” Anakin asked, already sitting himself down on the stone bench covered in ivy by the side of the fountain. Perhaps it was an overreaction, it wasn’t like a messy hairdo would break their cover, but Anakin wasn’t going to say no to another chance for Obi-Wan’s hands in his hair.

Right away, Obi-Wan moved to behind Anakin and began to fully take apart the braids and pins stuck through his hair. “Are you sure?” he asked nonetheless, and Anakin just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I trust you,” Anakin replied. This time, as Obi-Wan twisted and tugged on Anakin’s hair, Anakin made sure to open up their lingering bond and project what the touch did to him. He sent over all of his contentment and lethargy and accidentally a bit of his pleasure as well, threading each emotion through the bond as they sat there without words.

Nothing could hurt him in this moment, so Anakin just closed his eyes and let Obi-Wan weave his hair into an intricate pattern, crossing each strand with precision.

All of a sudden, Anakin felt the weight of a circlet settle over his head. He opened his eyes to Obi-Wan adjusting the thin band of metal so it lay properly over Anakin’s now fancily pinned up hair.

“Beautiful,” Obi-Wan murmured under his breath, and Anakin exhaled shakily to try and ignore how the praise had gone straight to his cock. It was possible Obi-Wan was just talking about his own handiwork and the gold circlet that Anakin had initially refused to wear. But the way Obi-Wan had said it so quietly and tenderly to himself was making Anakin’s head spin from the depth of his own yearning.

Anakin just smiled and held out his hand to Obi-Wan, who took it and pulled him up off of the bench. His heart stuttered its rickety beat as neither of them let go, walking back into the ballroom hand-in-hand.

...

5.

Ever since Anakin had bared his soul and shared how much he enjoyed whenever Obi-Wan’s hands tangled up in his hair, the two of them had settled into a nice routine of playing with Anakin’s hair as stress relief for both of them. Anakin knew he was likely overdue for a haircut, but he treasured having longer curls for Obi-Wan to pull on far too much to just cut it all off. Padmé occasionally teased him for how shaggy his hair was getting, and even more so once she had realized his embarrassing reason for keeping it long, though she was also genuinely supportive of his crush.

His hair never caused too much of a problem; he just tied it up in a ponytail whenever he needed it out of his eyes for tinkering with droids and engines and such. After the first couple of weekly hangouts with Obi-Wan, Anakin started bringing along little mechanical parts to fix and fidget with whenever he didn’t want to get drowsy and fall asleep for the next few hours accidentally.

That day, Anakin had chosen a tiny durasteel ball to take apart and put back together again, sitting cross-legged on Obi-Wan’s floor. Obi-Wan sat behind him, eyes closed, meditating and immersed in the Force as he braided together random strands of Anakin’s hair. The motions apparently helped keep his mind at ease and sink more easily into meditation, especially when Anakin creaked open their bond and intertwined a bit of his Force signature with Obi-Wan’s, as if their pinky fingers were linked together.

Anakin was honestly just glad to finally have time with his Master all to himself, not dealing with any responsibilities or the war, only hanging out and chilling together. The weekly timing was wishful thinking, for they were too often separated by their endless duties, but they still strived to see each other whenever they were both on the same mission or on leave at the same time.

As much as Anakin cherished the time he got to spend with Obi-Wan, it was almost infuriating as well to be so close to him all the time and yet still not have the connection he truly wanted. Surely Obi-Wan couldn’t be unaware of Anakin’s eternal condition of lovesickness, but he hadn’t ever once acknowledged the krayt dragon in the room of Anakin’s feelings. At least, not beyond a few hints that Anakin was definitely reading far too much into. Obi-Wan was naturally just flirty and charming, and could never like Anakin in the same way, no matter how much his winks and warm smiles and lingering touches made Anakin bubble up in the Force as if he were an overflowing chalice of happiness.

The knowledge that Obi-Wan would never return his feelings didn’t quite make it across to Anakin’s body, though, as he became annoyingly aroused each time from the physical contact. Usually, he could control himself and keep it all locked inside until he got back to his own room, but his cock still stirred from the pleasing sensation without fail.

Anakin tried to focus on the intricate mechanics of the trinket in his hands, but one particular pull at a chunk of hair nearly sent Anakin reeling in pleasure, stars dancing above his eyes. He was so hard, and Obi-Wan was lost in his meditation, surely it wouldn’t hurt to just—

He sighed in relief as quietly as possible as he palmed his cock through his pants. Force, it was just maddening how Obi-Wan knew how to turn him on so perfectly and yet was still so oblivious. Perhaps the Force told him how to pluck at the strings of Anakin’s pleasure while he meditated, for there was no other explanation for his exquisite torture.

Anakin rubbed at his cock slowly, intending to just take off the edge of desperation he felt, biting his lip to keep any embarrassing noises from escaping and alerting Obi-Wan. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan kept tugging at Anakin’s curls at just the right angle and pressure, making it harder and harder for Anakin to keep quiet as he grinded his palm down against his cock. He sighed as he felt a few drops of precome leak out and create a slight stain on the front of his pants, but couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan _yanked_ at Anakin’s hair, and Anakin let out a warbling moan, sounding practically filthy, loud like a holostar. Obi-Wan wrenched himself out of the Force while Anakin blushed and wished he could vanish on the spot, utterly mortified but also unable to take his hand off of his aching cock.

There was nothing but awkward silence and heavy breathing between them as Obi-Wan settled back into his body and Anakin sat paralyzed on the floor, burning with humiliation. He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t face Obi-Wan’s expression of revulsion at his former Padawan perverting such a ritual between them. Well, perhaps Obi-Wan wouldn’t be filled with hatred, but Anakin also couldn’t face his certain eyes of pity.

Obi-Wan placed his hand lightly on Anakin’s shoulder, and started to say, “Dear one, it’s okay, please listen to me—”

That was enough for Anakin to tear himself away from the touch. He had screwed everything up irrevocably, and there was no turning back, so he might as well just run away. Without a word, Anakin picked himself up off the floor and sprinted out of the room, stubbornly ignoring the pang of _wrong_ inside of his heart.

...

+1.

Anakin leaned against the wall of his apartment, panting, his mechanical hand covering his face and catching his tears. His robes were haphazard, with his pants shoved down, as he held his cock loosely in his other hand. He was still shamefully hard, as his head swam with thoughts of Obi-Wan fucking him mixed in with the devastating realization that he could never have that.

His head was a whirlpool of chaos, drowning him in emotions he couldn’t quite grasp before he was washed away again. Absent-mindedly, he noticed that he hadn’t bothered to close his bond with Obi-Wan all the way, and his tumultuous feelings were leaking out more and more, but what did it matter? Anakin had fucked everything up enough already. He didn’t know what to do, Obi-Wan must _hate_ him now, things could never be the same, he would never want to go on a mission with Anakin again, would never again play with Anakin’s hair—

A crisp set of knocks at the door cleaved through Anakin’s spiral. He couldn’t pull himself out of his position against the wall, paralyzed even as his flurry of thoughts skidded to a halt and stayed frozen around him. Then, all of a suddenly, he felt a golden warmth in the back of his head. The warmth spread and grew, planting a meadow of kindness within his mind, offering up each flower and petal as a chance that Anakin could take.

Anakin hesitated before fully surrendering himself to bask in the sunlight, and opened the door to his apartment with the Force and a flick of his right wrist. He scrunched up his eyes the moment he did so, still unwilling to face potential disappointment. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, creating a deafening cadence amongst the silence as a far-too-familiar Force signature entered the room and approached him.

Warm hands settled on both of his cheeks, cupping his face ever-so-gently. Anakin gulped as the hands slid down his face to linger on his jaw, one of them tilting his head slightly as the other lifted away, and the glimmering golden feeling only swelled. The other hand tucked a wayward curl behind Anakin’s ear with all of the tenderness he ached for, and only then did he open his eyes to find who he had been looking for all along.

“Oh, Anakin…” Obi-Wan whispered, and Anakin winced, considering keeping his eyes closed again. The grounding presence of Obi-Wan’s fingers trailing down his jaw forced Anakin to stay present and staring, his heart hanging in the balance.

They stared at each other just like that for a minute, the chaotic yet elegant dance of their Force signatures telling their own story without a single word. The Force hummed with thousands of unspoken confessions, all the ways that the moment could go. Anakin stopped holding his tongue and finally breathed his first one out.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a hoarse voice, looking Obi-Wan straight in the eyes, daring him to interrupt. The apology hovered in the air between them, an unwieldy and wobbling mess, before it settled into itself and faded away.

Obi-Wan didn’t respond at first as he let the statement settle, but then just shook his head. “Oh, Anakin, there’s absolutely nothing you should be apologizing for.” Anakin opened his mouth to spit back his rebuttal, but his heart fluttered and he just left his jaw open, lips parted, ready to swallow Obi-Wan’s truth.

“If anything, _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing for ever giving you the impression that I didn’t want you. For leading you to believe that there could ever be a universe in which Obi-Wan Kenobi is not head-over-heels in love with Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said, the Force practically quivering in anticipation around him and his hands. “I suppose I should bare my soul to you: I was scared to admit my feelings, despite knowing the truth of them at my very core.”

His words dripped down Anakin’s throat like honey, and Anakin nearly choked when they ensconced inside of him and realization dawned upon him. “You… you love me? Me, of all people?”

Obi-Wan just chuckled, before leaning in to press a kiss against Anakin’s forehead. “Always,” he said into Anakin’s skin, and Anakin gasped softly.

“Are you… are you sure? What did I ever do to deserve this?” Anakin whispered, letting the words drop from his tongue like pebbles.

Slowly, Obi-Wan pulled himself away, though still just as close to Anakin in the Force, their signatures practically knitted together. He reached forwards and ran his hand carefully through Anakin’s hair, taking his time to glide his fingers through the strands, tugging lightly as he let his hand fall away at the end as a promise.

“You didn’t need to do anything at all, dear one. You have me,” he said with his words coated in devotion, and Anakin finally broke his spell surged forward to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in a kiss. The world jumped back into motion as the two of them moved their mouths together in flawless synchrony. Obi-Wan’s hands came up to tangle so perfectly in Anakin’s hair, threading their very souls together more and more with every second of their dance.

Obi-Wan pulled experimentally on a curl, and Anakin no longer bothered to cover up his moan, the obscene sound only smothered by Obi-Wan’s mouth. Desperate to intertwine even further, Anakin wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and pressed their crotches together. This time, Obi-Wan added his groan to the mix, tightening his grip on Anakin’s hair and creating a feedback loop of arousal as Anakin grinded their erections together.

Lost in their pleasure, they stumbled through Anakin’s apartment, tripping over miscellaneous scattered droid parts and grasping mindlessly at each other’s clothing. Shedding robes was difficult when their mouths and limbs were so thoroughly entangled, and so Obi-Wan reluctantly pulled away from their kiss to undress more when they reached the threshold of Anakin’s bedroom.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Obi-Wan whispered as he reached back up to ruffle Anakin’s hair which he knew was already totally mussed up and sticking up haphazardly. Anakin keened at the praise, watching Obi-Wan remove his robes tantalizingly slowly, while Anakin had shrugged his own already-undone robes in only a couple of seconds.

Anakin stared, shamelessly transfixed by Obi-Wan’s body, and sighed in frustration as he kneeled down in front of his bed as an invitation. “Hurry it up, Master, _please_ ,” he begged, licking his lips as obviously as he could and sending out a teasing shadow of his want in the Force.

The strength of just that little bit of Anakin’s desire still nearly bowled Obi-Wan over. He froze in his undressing before quickly giving in and sitting down at the foot of the bed, still in his pants and nothing else. He sat in his usually infuriating pose of splayed legs, but Anakin’s mouth watered as he realized he could finally live out his endless fantasies of being between them.

Anakin couldn’t wait any longer, and leaned forward to mouth at the obvious bulge in Obi-Wan’s pants through the fabric. As Anakin nuzzled and dragged his mouth along the thick line of his cock, Obi-Wan whimpered, and soon enough fisted some of Anakin’s curls and yanked to pull him away from his crotch. Immediately, Anakin moaned again, but sat back on his heels as Obi-Wan shoved down his pants with his free hand while keeping his other one firmly wrapped around Anakin’s locks.

Obi-Wan pulled his cock out and stroked himself a couple of times as Anakin’s eyes widened in want, but he fought his every instinct and clasped his hands together behind his back, not moving an inch. “Good boy,” Obi-Wan said so matter-of-fact while his words made Anakin’s cock throb in need.

After a few more seconds of sheer torture being held so close to Obi-Wan’s cock unable to even dart out his tongue and lick along the underside for a quick taste, Obi-Wan finally pulled Anakin closer and guided his mouth to align it with his hard, leaking cock. With a push from Obi-Wan’s hand but also eagerly leaning forward himself, Anakin took the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock into his mouth, closing his eyes in bliss at the sensation.

He suckled at the tip, swirling his tongue over the crown and savoring the salty taste of precome steadily leaking out. Anakin slowly edged more of Obi-Wan’s cock into his mouth, but at a pace that he knew would be maddening, taking his sweet time and retreating every so often to focus his attention on just the very tip.

Obi-Wan punctuated his heavy breathing and panting with the occasional broken moan, often a new variation on “ _Ah_ -na- _ki-i-in_.” He twisted his fingers in Anakin’s hair and pulled him further onto his cock, making sure he wasn’t choking, but fed up with the teasing nonetheless. Anakin just moaned around Obi-Wan’s cock as he stretched open his jaw to take more and bob up and down more properly, his own cock hard and aching for friction.

Anakin projected his want in the Force and looked up at Obi-Wan, who nodded. “Yes, good boy, you’re doing so well for me, you can rut against my leg,” he said, and Anakin nearly cried with relief as he pressed his cock against Obi-Wan’s leg and grinded forward desperately.

He was so full, so overwhelmed with sensation, but nothing gave Anakin more pleasure than hearing Obi-Wan begin to babble and lavish him with praise. “Oh, look at you, you’re taking my cock so well, my dear, so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock, where you belong,” he chanted, spurring Anakin on to try and suck even more of his length down.

They continued on in this erotic pattern for a while, driving each other mad with sucking and dirty talk and moans and an endless litany of praise. Anakin’s jaw was getting sore from being held open for so long, but Obi-Wan rubbed soothing circles into the hinge of his jaw before returning to his iron grip on Anakin’s hair. Anakin rocked his hips forward faster and mewled, letting out a string of moans as his pleasure crescendoed. He came, lips still stretched around Obi-Wan’s cock, as Obi-Wan pulled at his curls with both hands, tugging and twisting as much as he liked.

Overstimulated and shaking slightly as he came down from the high of orgasm, Anakin whimpered as Obi-Wan thrust his cock further into his mouth, letting go of his previous self-control and starting to fuck Anakin’s face in earnest.

“Can I come in your mouth, darling?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin sent his emphatic approval in the Force right away. With one final yank of Anakin’s hair, Obi-Wan crested over the edge into orgasm, filling Anakin’s mouth with come. He relaxed his throat and swallowed it down, but some come still ended up dribbling down the side of his mouth.

Obi-Wan carefully pulled Anakin off of his cock and into his arms. Anakin stole a quick kiss before curling up with Obi-Wan gently stroking his hair, sated and content with the knowledge that their night was far from over.

**Author's Note:**

> and then they FUCKED
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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